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BiancaThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by John Wells | |
| Saturday, 01 March 2008 | |
Bianca "Oh, you are a big girl," he said just as they had consented to love making. And it was difficult for him to handle her. They were facing each other. He put his hands at the side of her waist and began. Her body was quickly in full motion. He now started something that he must continue. She would not stop. She was too far gone. He was gasping for breath. She would not retire from the passion. He was obligated to please her. At one moment, he felt like a slave. He began to embrace her more tightly. He loved having her large breasts against his chest. He knew them so well and they were pleasing to have along for the ride. This was the way they made love. It often started on impulse whether they be in a public or private area. Sometimes the sex would be so torrid, they would not even take the time to undress. He would describe Bianca as all woman. She was approximately 26 years of age. She had deep brown eyes. Her skin was smooth and pale. She had beautiful full red lips, a real delight to kiss. Her hair was long and black and felt like silk. She stood at a height of 5 feet 5 inches. She was as full figured as any woman could be. And she was extremely sexy. All she had to do was to look at him with her mouth partially open and he knew she wanted sex. This was a genuine sex kitten. She was born erogenous. She needed pampering, petting, caressing, cuddling, and marathon sex. A few weeks earlier, he had caught himself laughing at his situation. He said, "I used to dream about this kind of relationship in my adolescence. I used to ask God in my early twenties to make it happen, and now here I am in my early fifties having my prayers and fantasies answered. I asked for something, or more specifically, for someone, and now I have her." But she was a man eater when they made love. She took almost everything from him: his pleasure, his energy, his soul. It was not an intercourse from his side, but simply an act to see the thing through, a formality, a dance, a habit. He would never leave her because he gave her everything she needed. This was important for him. He was strong for her, but this came at a price: he lost much of his once strong sexual desires with age. He could no longer feel as he did in his youth. He was somewhat detached from that great myriad of human feeling below the belt. But not all was lost. When he was with her, and she was not wanting 'it', he loved to explore much of her body with his hands and his lips and his face. He retained certain sensual qualities he had not overcome when he was a young child. For example, he had never stopped biting his fingernails. This, he believed, gave him an advantage. He had a heightened sense of taste and a larger locomotion of movement with his lips and tongue. He knew where to go and what to do with her in this area simply based on his own self induced oral automisms. He could be acutely sensitive to what she felt, especially when he had her left nipple in his mouth. He derived great joy in his oral fixations with her. He was always curious to see what parts of her were warm and soft and wet, and how she was sculptured as a woman. He could explore her as a mountain with his tongue and lips and always discover something not sensed before. And then he would use his hands and his fingers to go over almost every part of her body. The sensitivity of his fingers especially at the tips where no fingernail grew allowed him to probe certain depths and curves of her skin. He could feel things in her and on her. It was as if he were touching her actual emotions themselves, as if they existed as separate living entities beyond the layer of her skin. It did not matter if he was rubbing the soft skin of her upper thigh or stroking the smile wrinkle on her face, he could always get there finding a sensual treasure. Many times, his child like sense of touch would have a pleasing effect on her. If, for instance, she had been in a stressful situation during the day, his touch would relax her. She would become stronger, warmer, more confident, more fulfilled, contented in her person. He could love her at this time and not be hindered by her mood or mind space. And his best gift for reaching in and changing the setting of her heart was his art of embracing her. He would approach her gently from behind and very slowly place his arms to a soft rest on her waist. This embrace had to be calculated perfectly and most times he was successful in his execution of it. It was not so much an act of loving her; it was more about liberating her. His embrace appeared to speak to her saying, "yours is the joy-hood of being woman. I empower your femininity." She would become more woman at these times, and for very brief moments, he could discern dimensions of her not shown to the outside world. Copyright 2008 John Wells |
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